


Mad Comfort

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Dru pops in during Spike's crazy basement moments in BtVS S7.





	Mad Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cozzybob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozzybob/gifts).



> This is for Cozzybob who asked: how about some Spru fic? Be nice to see what would've happened if Dru popped in during Spike's crazy basement moments in BTVS s7...
> 
> Your wish is my command! It's a little strange, but then, it's Dru. Hope you like it!

Mummy was very cross.  
  
First, her Armand went back to the chaos dimension and stoutly refused to take her with him, when she knew she would just love the dizzying madness of it.  
  
Flittering gnats and bees, the demons of Janus. She could find better.  
  
Second, the warm desert nights were bereft of interest: just the same wholesome farmers to snack on and teens marinated in sexual frustration. It was as if Armand had pulled the life from the area when he closed his portal. Or perhaps she had wandered a bit away from the city.  
  
The birds led her north, and the breeze guided her feet until the air smelled familiar and sparked with interesting magic. Then she smelled him, her dark prince, like the tasty tang of fresh-spilt blood. She gleefully hurried her steps. Perhaps he had gotten over that strange slayer business and would be ready to dance with her again.  
  
Third – the final straw. He was talking to a her that was not her.  
  
Spike knelt on a concrete floor, supplicant, wild and disarrayed, pleading with the figment that spoke with Drusilla’s voice.  
  
“Bad Spike,” the not-Drusilla said. “My wicked dog, always ready to bite and scratch.”  
  
“No,” Spike pleaded. “Yes… yes, but no. No more.”  
  
“This isn’t right at all,” Drusilla said. She stepped up to the apparition and peered at it. “I wouldn’t scold my Spike without lovely scratches and spankings.”  
  
The apparition’s eyes widened in panic. “You see me? That’s impossible. I…” Panic turned to a concerned frown and she vanished. Spike stared at the empty space a moment, then looked at Drusilla with confusion, and then laughed, loud and brokenly.   
  
Drusilla laughed, too, because it was such fun for Spike to appreciate the same things, but then she stopped, mid-laugh, and cocked her head. Something was not right with Spike. Not at all.  
  
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. His fingers were torn and bloody at the tips, and dirty. Filth crusted his nails. Her Spike was always so fastidious about his hands. Drusilla took a step back, hissing. “You’re not my Spike!”  
  
He laughed even more. “Of course not. He’s gone. Burned up from the inside.” Spike shrank back, his giggles disturbingly like sobs, and nibbled on the bloody ends of his fingers.  
  
Mummy was very cross indeed. She slapped him. He did nothing but rock with the blow, watching her warily.  
  
“Bad Spike! Horrid Spike! What have you done to yourself?” She searched his face for a clue, and then recoiled, nose squinching. “You smell like the Angel beast! Oh no! No!’ She sank to the floor, hands on the sides of her head, wailing, screaming out her broken heart.  
  
Something brushed her arm. She turned away from the contact, but it came again. She thrashed and wailed, but Spike put his arm around her and pressed his lips to her hair. She sank against him, though she didn’t entirely want to, she needed the strength of his arms and his chest under her as she cried.  
  
“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Never wanted to hurt…” he choked a sob of his own. “Always hurting the girls.”  
  
“Nasty light! It steals everything. First daddy, then grandmummy, now my prince. They leave princess all alone.” She pushed him away. “I should cut it out. Nasty thing!” She traced her fingernails over his heart.  
  
“Could you?” Spike asked. He leaned back, arms wide, welcoming her.  
  
Drusilla frowned, cocking her head.  
  
“That’s it, love. Cut it out. Do me a world of good.”  
  
“Now that’s just silly,” she said. “You can’t cut it out, or what good would it be?”  
  
Spike fell back against the floor, arms at his sides, and stared blankly at the ceiling.  
  
Drusilla stood. There was dirt on her dress. She batted it off and scowled. Then she poked Spike with the tip of her shoe. He didn’t respond. The  _thing_  she had frightened off was still there, pervading the air with power and energy, like the charge before lightning struck. It felt delightful, like mischief and ruin, but it couldn’t be good for her poor, broken boy. She prodded him with her toe again.  
  
The Mother Superior entered from a side-room, her shoes making soft sounds on the concrete floor under her thick robes. “Child, you should leave this place.”  
  
The Mother Superior was over a century dead. Of course, Drusilla saw her from time to time, that was normal. But this version she saw had the same sticking paste inside her as the apparition of herself had had. Drusilla bowed her head and clasped her hands piously, and when the Mother Superior got close, leaned forward and whispered, “Psst! I see inside of you!”  
  
Drusilla pawed through the Mother Superior, her hands meeting no resistance but empty air.  
  
Mother Superior scowled. “You are a very wicked child!”  
  
Drusilla laughed. She snatched up Spike by the arm. He hung limp like a sack of bones, so she tossed him over her shoulder and walked away, ignoring the protests of whatever-it-was.  
  
“Don’t worry, Willy. Mummy has you.” She patted his rear end. “We’ll get you clean and safe and fed, and then tear that pesky soul from you.”  
  
She wandered out into the night humming a merry tune. She always felt better, when she had a plan.  
  
***  
  
“Dru, love. Really, I am feeling much, much better. Undo the chains now, there’s a love, and I’ll get you a beautiful new dolly.”  
  
Dru frowned, considering the picture Spike made, chained to the wall in their new lair. She’d been keeping him fed and clean, with the help of new friends, but his wrists were in bad shape, and his eyes had this desperate look. It seemed she couldn’t make him perfectly happy – not even with candles and his favorite songs.   
  
She straddled his legs and brushed a loose lock of hair from his face. “You look much better, but it’s been months and months and you still have a soul.” She pouted.  
  
“Well, I’d do better getting rid of it if you let me up.”  
  
Drusilla wriggled against him and licked the dried blood on his forearm. “Naughty Spike. You’re lying to princess. If I set you free, you’ll rush off to do… good things.” She made a face.  
  
“No, love, no! Not at all! I’m a bad man, I am. Let me prove it to you.”  
  
Drusilla considered his request, leaning back and thoughtfully touching her chin. But, no, as much as she wanted to believe, she couldn’t ignore the tears he shed whenever she brought him a tasty morsel, or how he looked away when they brought dinner home alive. “Maybe,” she mused, “it has to be a slayer. That worked for Daddy.”  
  
“What? No. Don’t hurt Buffy, please. I mean… don’t bring her into this. I only love you, Petal.”  
  
Drusilla hissed and scratched his cheek for his insolence. “Buffy! All that gold and sunshine! I wish I could cut her from your heart!”  
  
“She isn’t in my heart. I swear. Please, love…”  
  
Drusilla paced, ticking of ideas and things she’d tried already on her fingertips. “If I let you go, you’ll run straight to her.”  
  
“I swear I won’t.”  
  
“…. And she can’t resist you. Or she’s very, very mad. Or blind.”  
  
“Pet?”  
  
Drusilla danced over to the armoire and got the key to the handcuffs.  
  
Spike stared at her, holding his more battered wrist as the chains fell free. Drusilla made a playful growl and shoed him. He scrambled to his knees and then his feet and ran from the room.   
  
Drusilla sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. He’d be back.


End file.
